My wife by marriage

Professor Ambrose Penwose, Kiwi

When I chopped off half of the pinky finger on my left hand it could not be sewed back on so I took it home.
My wife by marriage wanted to offer it to the devil during one of her satanic rituals with her small macabre circle of friends.
I declined.

If you think Rosemary’s baby was bad, you should have seen hers. That’s right I said hers. There’s no way that creepy kid was mine.
We never even consummated our marriage. Whenever I got near her she would say, “I’m a nun, I don’t do that!”
I would frustratingly quibble back, “Only one of your personalities is a nun. The others are not frigid except for the devil worshipper, and she freaks me out.”
“That one doesn’t like you.”

She got pregnant one day when I was away and the devil came to the house disguised as an Avon Man. I knew something was awry when she hadn’t purchased any perfume. The thing was born with two heads, each with one eye. I called it Little Beelzebub.
An optometrist tried to rip me off by selling me two sets of glasses.
I said, “Forget it, you make one pair big enough for both eyes just like regular kids have, I ain’t paying for two pairs of glasses.”

The kid started spinning its heads and I caved. Is it still called a pair if it only has one lens? I had to buy two.
As I look back on it all it seems like a dream…maybe it was?

Anyway I managed to keep my finger away from them.
I thought it would be nice to wear on a chain around my neck…but it rotted.
I tried to keep it in alcohol but they drank it all.
A neighbor down the street was Egyptian, however he refused to tell me how to make it into a Mummy. I wrapped it with small sheet strips but it wasn’t the same. It rotted completely away except for the bone.
I gave that to a girl at a rock concert who said she was going to put it through one of her nostrils.
Now whenever she picks her nose she’ll be doing it with my finger.

Penwose Out,
By George
Rosebud
NoPo8